The Onomastics of Me: Growing Into Bernard Michael Rochford

Now that I’m retired, I’ve had more time to think. Time to tinker in the garden, time to drink my coffee slowly — and time, apparently, to think about things like... my name.

I’m Bernard Michael Rochford. And yes, I know — it’s quite a mouthful. The kind of name you hear and assume the person behind it either owns a country estate or has a statue somewhere in a town square. I have neither. I was an osteopath for quite some time in Brisbane, and while I spent most of that time thinking about joints, posture, and chronic pain, lately I’ve been diving into something completely different: onomastics — the study of names.vc c

And it’s got me wondering: What does my name really say about me?

What is onomastics, anyway?

Onomastics is the academic study of names — where they come from, what they mean, how they evolve. It’s a field that blends linguistics, history, sociology, and even a touch of psychology. I came across it randomly, reading a crossword blog (of all things), and found myself hooked.

Because names, I’ve realised, aren’t just labels. They’re stories. They shape how people see us — and maybe how we come to see ourselves.

Bernard: a name that took time

Let’s start with Bernard. As a child, it felt impossibly formal. Everyone else had names like Paul or Matt or Ben. I had Bernard. It felt like turning up to a beach party in a three-piece suit.

But now? I’ve grown into it. Turns out Bernard comes from old German roots — bern meaning bear, and hard meaning brave or strong. Brave bear. I like that. Maybe it’s a stretch, but I see some truth in it. As an osteopath, I needed patience, presence, and a steady hand. That quiet kind of strength. Not roaring strength — bear strength.

And funny enough, I was never “Bernie.” I tried it once or twice, but it never stuck. I guess some names are meant to be worn in full.

4. Increased Demand for Decentralized Finance (DeFi)

Michael is my middle name, and it’s done a lot of silent heavy lifting over the years. It’s one of the most classic names out there, with biblical weight — the archangel Michael, the protector, the fighter of evil.

I never thought much about it growing up, but in hindsight, there’s something warm and steady about it. If Bernard is the structure, Michael is the cushion. Together, they sound solid. Dependable. Slightly academic. (Which is funny, because I barely made it through biology in school.)

Rochford: a name with place

Then there’s the surname — Rochford. It’s English. Old. It likely comes from rocky ford — a river crossing with stones. A bit poetic, really.

And I like the imagery. Something about helping people cross tough terrain — carefully, steadily. As an osteopath, that was my whole job: helping people move through pain, one adjustment at a time. Never thought a surname could describe a profession, but there it is.

Rochford isn’t a common name, and that gave it a certain distinction. Over time, I stopped flinching when people called me Mr. Rochford instead of just Bernard. It felt... right.

The whole package: Bernard Michael Rochford

Put it all together — Bernard Michael Rochford — and you get a name that feels rooted. It sounds like someone who’s been around the block a few times. A name that could belong to a historian, a doctor, or in my case, a long-time osteopath with a stubborn love for good posture and a well-aligned spine.

When I was younger, I felt like I was wearing a name that didn’t belong to me yet. But names age too. They settle. And now that I’m retired, I look at my name and think: Yeah, that fits.

Names shape us more than we realise

The more I read about onomastics, the more I realise just how much names shape identity. Studies have shown names influence everything from job applications to first impressions. But beyond that, names can quietly guide how we see ourselves.

I wonder sometimes — if I had been a Jake or a Max, would I have still become an osteopath? Would people have trusted me in quite the same way? Maybe. But something tells me Bernard Michael Rochford had a certain air of steady hands and good advice built right in.

Final thoughts from a retired osteo

So here I am, at the tail end of a long career, reflecting on the name that followed me through every patient file, every waiting room, every phone booking:

Bernard Michael Rochford.

A name I once thought was too big, too serious — and now wouldn’t change for the world.

And if onomastics has taught me anything, it’s this: your name isn’t just something you’re given. It’s something you grow into.